


Sweat and Tears

by RosesToPaint



Series: Give and take [2]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: AU, Angst, Deities, Keyblades, Kingdom Hearts I AU, riku-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 23:33:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6214567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosesToPaint/pseuds/RosesToPaint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes what we think we want is not what we need. Riku wishes he'd known that earlier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweat and Tears

Ok, so I hope this clears up some things. Not sure if I'm going to continue this, but I kind of like making Riku miserable - I'm a terrible person.

* * *

 

 

He has stopped caring.

Wherever he goes, eyes follow him. Invisible, undeterred, predatory. There’s still a sinister chill trying to sneak up on him whenever he lets down his guard, but Riku is protected by the unshakable faith that it cannot touch him. It has been expulsed from his head, relegated to the dark corners outside his heart. It can watch, but it cannot touch.

The pendant bumps against his scar as he walks, sending little shocks through his body. He never forgets that it’s there anymore; it’s his lucky charm against all ill-will.

His dreams have changed again too. The scenes are getting clearer, stay in his mind for longer. The ocean is gone. Instead there’s an endless forest that smells of pines and rain. All traces of darkness have disappeared from there and all that is left is a sense of peace.

 

_There’s moss under his cheek and rain is hitting his skin. It’s cool and welcome; he feels feverish. Another body is pressed against his back but he feels no alarm. Only a quiet sense of companionship. It’s a friend, that’s all he knows._

 

Things feel more real now. Sometimes he wakes up and still feels the scratch of high grass against his legs or the heat of the sun in his face.

_You did well_ , he remembers. _Don’t be afraid_.

There’s more to this than a bit of blood and magic, he knows that. He needs get to the bottom of this – to be sure – despite the overwhelming feeling that this is ok. That he can have this. Now that the desperate fear is gone, now that he admittedly might be in too deep already, logic is returning and he can’t help but fear the pendant. It’s a strange, foreign entity and he has no idea what has garnered him its good-will. Or what might take it away.

He’s gone back to Elric’s hut only once. There’s no way Riku can hide something like an old tome from Maleficent for long, so he brought it back there. But the book offers no useful information anyway. ‘Palesis’ is a small deity that used to protect a tribe native to that world. It can take a liking to you or it can punish you, but the book never mentions how such punishment might look or what might bring it about. He’s aware enough of the general lore though to know that he’s given it power over him. Not only with his blood, but also with his reliance on it. He’s _prayed_ to it. Unknowingly, driven by fear and need, but he did.

There are of course more books. But most of them are in his Master’s study and Riku has no intention of breaking in there. He’s appropriately wary of the old witch and as unwilling to part with the pendant as ever. There’s no way he will draw his Master’s attention with a badly thought out plan like this.

 

_Someone is playing with his hair. The air smells like wildflowers and he feels exhausted. Why? Something good happened but he’s not sure what. Don’t sleep. Don’t sleep yet. He turns over to stare up into dark eyes. It’s been so long. You haven’t said hello yet._

 

“Hello,” he croaks into the darkness.

Riku’s hand finds the pendant all by itself. It’s become an automatic reaction, seeking comfort that way. He can never give this to Kairi, he realizes dimly. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing.

 

There’s a princess he needs to find. A possible one. Maleficent doesn’t place much faith in her own informant, whoever it may be, but she’s paranoid enough to have him go check anyway.

“One step closer to waking Kairi,” she wheedles and Riku caves.

He doesn’t need to watch the girl for long to know she’s a dud. She’s a child still, a young child, and she behaves very much like one; jealousy and enmity are no strangers to her. Riku is torn between disappointment and debilitating relief. It’s one thing to bring Maleficent someone his age, or an adult even, but a child is something else entirely. He remembers Alice with regret.

‘So you can free me?’ she said. ‘I am quite sick of tea parties, I’m afraid.’

And then she took his hand and he led her away without a fight.

‘Are you a friend of Mr. Sora then?’

He shakes off the memories. What’s done is done. Alice is with Kairi now. Safe and unharmed, if out like a light. The princesses are no use to Maleficent dead, after all.

But while a waste of time, this little girl has given him the chance to get out of the castle in an entirely sanctioned, official way. It’s not Elric’s hut that he goes to thought. It’s the small village nearly an hour away. The old man was a right hermit, only visiting civilization every few months. Nobody even seems to have realized that he’s gone yet.

When he strides into the local inn the man behind the counter greets him with a broad smile.

“A traveler,” he remarks, “we don’t get your kind here often anymore!”

Privately Riku wonders how he’s still in business then. He directs a big, fake smile at the man, playing the part of the excited tourist.

“Can’t imagine why,” he says. “It’s real nice out here. Also, the history is fascinating.”

The innkeeper leans over the counter to him.

“Oh? We’re just a bunch of settlers here. Nothing much to tell.”

“I mean the native tribes. I heard they used to worship the darnedest things.”

The man snorts in agreement and hands him a key in exchange for a few coins.

“Crazy, the lot of them. Haven’t seen any for years and years though. Moved away or died.”

Riku sighs.

“That’s a pity. I’d hoped to hear a little about them.”

“Oh you’re in luck still. You should go talk to old Grall near the lake. He spent some time with a tribe in his youth. Crazy as a loon but he knows a lot about them.”

He makes a little swirling motion near his temple and Riku graces him with a conspiratory smile. Idiot.

 

Grall is in fact not crazy.

It takes Riku a while to notice, because the man certainly _acts_ the part, but he’s not. In fact he’s pretty shrewd, playing the village idiot to get some peace and quiet around here.

“It’s easier that way,” the man grunts, hobbling along with surprising speed. “At least they’ve stopped asking me rubbish now. ‘Did they really eat people, Grall?’ ‘Did they really dance around the fire, Grall?’ ‘Did they make you sacrifice animals, Grall?’”

He spits onto the ground.

“They got no idea about them, and they don’t want to learn either. They’re happy with their little horror stories. ‘If you’re not good, Old Grall will take you into the woods and then the Duoz will eat you.’ Pah.”

“I’ve been in the woods,” Riku says, “and there’s no one left to eat anybody.”

Grall hums in agreement.

“They’re long gone. All of them. Up and left or starved when the woodcutters scared the animals away. The Voqab and the Lod, they were clever; knew that their time here was over. But the Duoz, they stayed until the bitter end. Came here to ask for work even. What d’ you think the villagers said?”

He raises a mocking eyebrow at Riku, and Riku can imagine. He’s followed the man all the way around the village and to the lake; he didn’t know that someone with a peg leg could walk so fast. Grall fishes a bunch of keys out of his pocket and limps up the few stairs of his veranda.

“What do you want to know about anyway?” the old man asks grumpily.

“Gods. Deities. Whatever it was that they worshipped.”

Grall casts him a suspicious glance.

“Gods, huh? There were those, yeah. Come, if you want to know about gods you’ll want to see this.”

The house is small, much smaller than the ones in the village proper. It’s just one room with a rickety bed, an old stove, and a tiny table with two chairs. In the middle of the table, impossible to overlook, looms an intricately carved wooden statuette.

Riku steps closer, drawn in by the innocuous looking piece. It’s an old crone braced onto two walking sticks. Her long hair falls onto the ground, her back is bent with age.

“That’s … nice,” Riku offers uncomfortably, contemplating the woman’s saggy breasts. Grall snorts.

“This is Baher, the goddess of beauty. But that’s not what I wanted to show you.”

“Beauty?” Riku drawls, unable to help himself. Grall regards him with uncharacteristic patience.

“You’re young, so you don’t understand yet. But beauty isn’t here” – he gestures towards his own wrinkly face – “it’s _here_.”

He taps his chest, right above his heart. Riku ponders this for a second. He shouldn’t be surprised, really. The heart is something he knows a bit about, after all.

“This is only a statuette,” the man continues. “It’s a reminder. But it’s not very old yet. Twenty years to be exact. That’s not a long time for an item of worship. Nothing at all almost.”

A tiny key opens one of the bedside drawers. Riku watches him attentively. Whatever it is, Grall handles it with utmost care. It’s a bundle of blue cloth and when the old man unfolds it on the table it reveals a white knife. Ivory, maybe. It’s crude and stained yellowish at the blade, but there’s a simple elegance to it.

“This,” the old man announces, “is all that’s left of the Duoz. This is the knife they used for their _terrible sacrifices_.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Twenty years I spent with them,” he muses wistfully. “Modis was the goddess we prayed to. She was the patron of the Duoz women, of life and child birth. In all the years I spent there I’ve never heard of a miscarriage. There was always a whole bunch of little children running around.”

His smile dissipates quickly.

“Until they all starved, of course. But there was a time …”

Riku stares at the knife. His scar itches uncomfortably. It must be a sad fate, to see your people disappear. To start forgetting. Being forgotten.

“As long as I still breathe,” Grall says firmly, “I will remember Modis. Through me she will live on. For the time being.”

“What happens after that? When … you’re gone?”

“She will fade, of course. A god cannot be without worship. A mighty deity can smite every single one of their followers. But if those followers turn away from them, the deity disappears. It’s not a temple they need, or sacrifices even. Those are for us. What really gives them power is _belief_.”

He sets the knife onto his thumb and draws a thin line of blood.

“The moment you give yourself to them, the moment you sacrifice your blood, your pain, you’re putting faith in them. That’s the important part.”

The blood sits on the edge of the blade, not a single drop submitting to gravity. There’s something about the knife. Riku pulls the pendant out of his shirt. It’s warm in his hand, but not hot; he lifts it up for Grall to inspect.

“Oh! Now that’s a surprise. Where did you find that?”

“An old man had it, out in the woods.”

He says nothing more on the topic and Grall accepts it with a grim nod.

“Yes,” he says, “those things have a way of finding you. If you have it, you’re supposed to have it.”

“They’ve been … talking to me,” Riku admits uncomfortably.

“Have they now?”

“There was someone who … “

He trails off.

Someone who wanted to harm me.

Use me.

Kill me …?

The right words won’t come, but his feelings must have shown on face. Grall nods.

“Did you feed them yet?”

It sounds strange but Riku knows immediately what the old man is talking about. He nods.

“I think their name is –“ “Palesis,” Grall interrupts him knowingly. “Yes I know that particular one. Recognize the stone.”

He leans a little away from Riku, as if suddenly wary of him.

“The Hyh have never gotten along with the Duoz, but you can’t help but pay your respects to Palesis when you pass their woods. The Hyh, too, have long since died. Today Palesis’ temple lays in ruins. But that’s not important anymore. There’s you now.”

“I don’t even know what to do with this,” Riku replies, frustrated. “I’m not a hunter – and I have no idea about farming. What can I do for a harvest god?”

Grall shakes his head.

“You say you don’t hunt? People always hunt something – money, fortune, love. You know nothing about the harvest? People always reap what they sow.”

He wraps the knife back up into the cloth, his blood staining the fabric and then suddenly disappearing.

“Don’t you see?” he whispers, sounding bitter. “This god belongs to you as much as you belong to them. Your belief is what makes them. Gods have been reshaped and repurposed since the beginning of time.”

Riku thinks of sleeping in the high grass and the scent of wildflowers. Why would he want to change that? But he knows of course _who_ would want to. No wonder that Maleficent was so eager for this. Owning the powers of a god – even if it’s a minor one, even if they’ve grown weak with time and loneliness. His fingers curl around the pendant anxiously. He’s come to fear for this creature as much as he fears it himself. His Master can never know about this.

 

_It’s dark. There’s grass under his bare feet and his heart is pounding in his chest. A rustle in the bushes. He is nervous, but not afraid; someone is with him. He tightens his grip on his weapon. A flash of fur in the undergrowth – euphoria._

 

He cannot not talk to it. Not now that he knows someone is listening.

‘I did something stupid.’

‘I don’t know how to fix this.’

‘How can I stop this?’

There’s never a direct answer, but he knows he’s being heard. The dreams are changing again. He’s more alert, able to discern words better. He never manages to take control of it, to try and speak out, but it doesn’t matter. Whatever he wants to say, they know already. The more he talks to them during the day, the more he can feel their presence. It’s not the same as the malicious thing still stalking him, watching from the outside, hungering. Palesis is a constant presence inside his head, a second soul dozing inside him until woken.

Sometimes Riku thinks he can even see them. Every time he catches his own reflection from the corner of his eyes there’s a flash of dark hair that he doesn’t have, of hands reaching for him. It occurs to him early on that he should be scared. More scared, in any case. But there’s no malice about the things he sees and feels. No matter how unlikely it seems, this creature is protecting him. _Silly child_.

 

Sora is here.

Riku confronted him at the gates of Hollow Bastion, and now he has Sora’s sword and no idea what to do. The duck and the dog are following him around, complaining and whining, and all Riku wants is for them to be gone. He wants the Kingdom Key gone as well, but he can’t seem to get rid of it now. He can dismiss it, but it’s still there; the third invisible presence stalking his every move.

Palesis is displeased. The keyblade is not Riku’s and it’s not theirs – it has a mind of its own and belongs to nobody. Its interference is not appreciated.

To think that there was a time when he wanted it … how stupid and vain it seems in hindsight. But the Kingdom Key is the keyblade’s purest form – the original – and his Soul Eater seemed to pale in comparison. Now he knows better. Its presence feels bitter and discordant and wrong. This **thing** is nothing like him; it’s a foreign body somewhere inside him, itching.

 

The thought of Sora roaming the halls fills him with a strange mix of anticipation and dread. On the one hand his _best friend_ is here. One the other … his best friend is _here_. Here, where Maleficent is more than willing to swallow him whole. Here, closer to Kairi than Riku had ever thought possible.

 

He shouldn’t be. Not with his naïve hero complex and the silly grin and the unwavering conviction that things will work out. Because him being here might mean that he’s right. That he is stronger than Maleficent and that there _are_ other ways and that everything Riku did – all the terrible, terrible things, were all for nothing.The thought is paralyzing.

It’s desperation that makes him seek out the boy. He lets the Beast chase the ghost of his princess (child’s play, really) and then locks the door. He can see Sora flinch as it clicks shut; only Riku knows it’s not only to keep Sora in but him too. This confrontation needs to happen, as little as either of them seems to want it.

Taunts are familiar grounds to them, so that what Riku settles for. He hardly recognizes the words that come out of his mouth though. He speaks of darkness and defeat, only half listening to himself or Sora’s stubborn rebuttal. It’s pure provocation.

He wants a fight and he wants to win. Lose. Win.

He wants a fight. At this point it doesn’t matter anymore how it ends.

They Kingdom Key leaving him is not as much of a surprise as it probably should be.

Instead there’s a moment of elation; freedom, finally of those things that aren’t for him. Donald, Goofy, the keyblade. Sora can have it. The Soul Eater soothes the gaping hole the Kingdom Key leaves, cool and familiar and his. His head clears; it makes the desperation gain a sharper edge instead.

He’s glad when he finally manages to make the first move.

 

His ears are ringing.

The Kingdom Key makes a high pitched noise whenever it collides with his Soul Eater; sharp and painful. He can still hear it following him as he drags his body to his room. This is it, he thinks, arms aching; the force of the fight has torn his muscles to shreds.

This is defeat. In a matter of hours Sora will face his Master. He might win. He might lose.

And there’s nothing Riku can do about it.

He slides to the floor, knees buckling under the weight of the realization. The world tilts and then there’s cold tile against his cheek. He counts his breaths, trying to wrench back control over his quivering heart. One breath, two breaths. A pair of yellow eyes blinks at him from under his bed.

Claws scuffle sharply against the floor. _Shing, shing_. In front of his mind’s eye the Kingdom Key flashes, metal clanging against metal.

_Shing_.

The shadow is twitching as it approaches him, unsure but lured by the chaos in his heart. Riku wonders if Maleficent is already dead.

What is supposed to happen to him now? He’s utterly useless to Kairi and to Sora. Useless to his Master too. Without the witch he’s back to square one, with a friend that hates him, an empty body, and no way home. He needs … he needs something. Despite the fog in his head he feels fiercely sure that this can’t be the end yet. It’s not like Sora knows how to make things right. No matter how strong he’s gotten, he’s still bumbling along blindly. Riku still has things to do. But getting out of this room seems more and more unlikely.

His eyes feel heavy and the scuffling of claws is getting louder, closer. He has no use for the Heartless anymore, and so they have only one use for him.

The pendant pulsates against his chest and he grips it through his sweat soaked shirt. He licks his dry lips, ignoring the taste of salt on them.

Come on, he thinks. One last time.

 

There’s the clunking of hooves on the floor. And then his body starts to move.

 

 


End file.
